The Week I Hated Men

I wish I could control everything, because I like control. I am glad I cannot, because my mind changes so often, and one time, a man said to me, "what, I'm not allowed to change my mind?" and I said, "no, you are not allowed to change your mind," like I can change my mind, but no one else possibly can. But that is not what I meant, I meant something like I do not make as many definitive statements, so it is more okay for me to change my mind than for him to change his, because I do not make promises that I cannot keep. And he does. And I do not think that you should drag people down into your misery. 

He is like a lost penny, and I love lost pennies. I used to tell my brothers, a penny could be worth a million dollars one day! as they threw them on the ground or into passing trash cans. But they are good luck, and if you stick a coin in vinegar, it'll shine right back up. If you leave it on the ground, it is just an old penny. 

I am vinegar, but maybe I should learn that some pennies belong right on the ground, "tails" side up, so no one ever touches them.

I cannot shine all the pennies in the world, why do I keep trying?
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"I'll always be waiting for you." 
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People always tell me that I am their favorite--coworker, barista, sister, friend, customer.

A girl I know told me she felt jealous of me because "every boy is in love" with me. I laughed, and said yes, look at all of my boyfriends, but she was serious. She asked me how I did it.

I always tell girls the one thing I know I do right: be yourself. No, I know everyone says that, but I am literally myself every single moment of every single day. Now.

My first relationship, which feels a thousand years ago, I was never myself, and I was settling, because you should never allow yourself to be silenced for anyone else in the world. The ironic thing is that he tried harder than any man ever had at that point in my life to get me to open up. He wanted to crack me and talk about everything that had happened in my life because it was so different than his gilded christian upbringing which was all family dinners, and church events, and baseball games. I am a woman of interest to men that have never been through much. They want to fix me, but I feel totally whole. I don't need to be fixed.

And then I started falling in love with boys that were more mysterious, the ones that have secrecy in their eyes, the ones that I can goad into speaking to their mothers on major holidays, the ones who need someone to fall asleep on from time to time. And that isn't settling, but there is no reward in it.

Being the favorite, the most trusted, the most significant, does not always feel great.

I do not date, but I flirt. No one is in love with me, but I am always in love with someone. I listen and hold hands and hearts, but no one knows to push me into a conversation when I need it the most.

So, I told her not to be jealous of me. I love myself, and I love my relationships, but this is not the ideal place to be.

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I hate the website pinterest because it makes me feel like all women are supposed to be Suzy Homemaker, and I thought it was 2013, and I thought we were past that, and if you just want to share your favorite images from movies, get a fucking tumblr and stop regressing in society's eyes.

I hate seeing women pin stupid images of great dinner ideas to make for their husbands, and I hate seeing single women with wedding and baby boards, like that is the ultimate goal for their lives, and I hate seeing all of the fake "motivation" pictures of women with bodies that we think we are supposed to strive to have, even though it would mean never having a child, or eating a cookie, or drinking a milkshake, or skipping your workout to drive spontaneously to the big city.

I don't want to get married, because I don't want to make dinner for my husband every night, and I don't want to read Real Simple and take notes on the good budgeting ideas, and I don't want to be boring, and I am so desperately afraid of becoming boring.

I chase relationships that will never, ever work out so that I can be this girl forever, because it gives me something to talk about, because one month before my ex boyfriend broke up with me, I was at the grocery store with my now roommate and I had a meltdown because I thought no man had flirted with me for months because they could smell the commitment on me and weren't interested if there were no chance of anything happening, and I know it is crazy, but I believe it to be true.

Men are like dogs, in more ways than one.

What if I just want to be single forever?

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Men can have their cake and eat it too, but if a woman tries to do that, she is shamed in like a million ways, most notably that women aren't supposed to eat cake because it doesn't mesh well with their workout and diet schedules.

I say I don't do anything for men, but I was taking my makeup off the other night with one of those overpriced makeup removal face napkins, and I looked down and thought it looked like Krusty the Klown had just washed his face off, and then I thought, I do do this for men, don't I? And I have always sworn up and down that I do not wear makeup for men, but on my days off, when I plan on running and then coming home and not leaving the house, I don't put on makeup, so what is that all about? I put on makeup because it makes me prettier, and I know I am pretty, but I can always be prettier, like I don't wear my hair up in a bun for the same reason, and what am I trying to prove? I am just as dumb as all the women I think are dumb.

And then I looked down and saw my scale next to my foot, and I wanted to throw it out the window because how dare I let a number define me? I thought I was better than that, but I am victim to so many things I wish I wasn't.

"Of course it isn't fair. We're women." 
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I think everyone should lay off of Taylor Swift. She is working through being young, and aren't we all?
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I wish I could freeze time. I wish I could just make it stop. I wish I could make everything in the world irrelevant, besides the jazz that would blare as we sipped champagne straight from the bottle, laughing as it tickled our throats. You would sing perfectly along to the horns, and I would always dance to the drums. My short curls would bounce accurately to the music, and you would find them beautiful, because this is my perfect.

We would share a cigarette out of one of those long fancy holders because cigarettes would not be able to hurt us because nothing can, here. We could kiss recklessly, because your heart is my heart, and she does not exist, because this is my perfect.

And you would still roll your eyes when I exaggerate in the story of my day, and I would still find myself openly irritated when you tried to charm me with an impression of your mother, because it is my perfect, and those are the real things I truly do love.

There would be no more questions and inquiries from everyone around us because there would be no question of us.

Even our heaviest makes me feel light. Even our darkest falls under a cloudless sky.